For Thine Is the Kingdom
by Finnarith
Summary: Charlie warring emotions, scars deep inside, fears brought to life. Set a few episodes back, when Rose helps Charlie when he thinks he's lost Claire. Rather angsty, dramatic CxC.


For Thine Is the Kingdom

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Our Father who art in Heaven,

Hallowed by Thy name.

His small body wracked with sobs he couldn't control, couldn't suppress. The tears burned against his face, tears he had been struggling to keep within for so long. The _What if_s flooded into his head, icy terror and then the hard, cold grip of dread.

Rose was such a comfort to him then, the only person on the island who could understand the pain, the confusion. Everyone else had come to terms with it, had, in a sense, gotten their lives back. There was so much to get used to, and so many doubts to be quelled and hopes to be encouraged, but everyone was adapting. And the other survivors had their concern and natural consideration for Claire, but they were different. They hadn't seen the cold black depths of Ethan's eyes, the unsettling stare as his gaze fixated on them. They didn't know the frantic fear that he'd felt, the despair, the panic that rushed through him and numbed his body. They hadn't felt the rope tighten mercilessly around his neck, heard Claire's desperate screams fading into the distance, and then the hazy blackness that slowly spread across his vision…

They didn't understand.

Thy Kingdom come,

They all worried for Claire. He knew it, he could feel it. And they worried about him too, but no one ever said anything about it. Kate and Jack worried over the raw scars around his neck, the rasping sound of his voice, the dark shadows under his eyes; Jack worried over his constant agitation and the effects of withdrawal that, added to his anxiety over Claire, made every minute miserable.

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Thy will be done,

The rest avoided him, but he was used to that. He didn't mind—didn't care, really. All he could think about was Claire—where was she? Was she still alive? What had he done to her? How was the baby? Did she sleep at night, did she worry about him, did she get any relief from Ethan's torture? Had she run away, and now was she wandering through the jungle, starving, exhausted, dying and they didn't know it?

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On Earth as it is in Heaven.

It was agonizing, with all of the terrible possibilities running through his head. He tried to keep hope, for that was all he had left now, but so much could be wrong, he couldn't stop thinking about it…

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Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespassers

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

His eyes closed—_no, don't close your eyes, those images will come back, the nightmares_—the strength, everything potent, clear, inescapable, he'd never been so afraid in his life, and it wasn't even him that was in danger.

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And lead us not into temptation—

It was his fault, or maybe it wasn't but he didn't even want to think about it. He didn't give a damn whose fault it was. He _hated _Ethan. There was more than hate. There was a trembling, overwhelming, pulsing fear that coiled in his stomach, consumed his thoughts—_no, not fear, _he thought, _terror_—terror and anxiety, if he closed his eyes he'd just see her beautifully innocent face again, and then visions of her mangled body, it was even to make the intensity of his shudders and cries worse.

He'd never known pure evil in his life.

He never realized how incredibly simple his life had been, before this. A single plane wreck and all of a sudden you're living in a reality show. Sure, he'd had his problems—the band, his brother, his addiction, the turmoil of emotions he tried to escape—but…nothing came down to it….nothing…suddenly all the times he'd worried about Liam, about being insignificant, about being a Nobody, about being forgotten, neglected, about being sad or not being happy or being too happy or just being stoned—those all seemed like nothing. All of a sudden his life and the life of the sweetest person he'd ever known was now in danger.

He wasn't really sure now that he was really LIVING this, that it was more than a dream or something out of a twisted mystery novel. Plane crash. Unknown island. Invisible monster. Mysterious villain who kidnaps the pregnant lady. The Addict has a near death experience. Scarring? Well, it was that, but how could you look at the physical pain around his neck when Claire was out there, somewhere, with the most perfect embodiment of evil he'd ever seen?

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But deliver us from evil—

He couldn't _stand _it any longer, waiting here, doing _nothing _while Claire could be dying! The restlessness began as a tingle in his fingertips, and built up until his whole body trembled with the _need_ to do something, anything.

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Deliver us—

He remembered the feeling of his addiction, how easy it had been to be tempted, and now, now he was strong, he had thought, but it wasn't true. He had always _needed _to depend on something. Religion. Music. Then heroin. And now he was depending on Claire—built around her, her thoughts, her feelings, her moods, her life, and he barely even knew her.

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For Thine is the Kingdom,

It all seemed so surreal. One day he was worrying about trying to get the band back together, what would they do—the next he kept picturing Claire, if Ethan had harmed her, when he would kill her, if the baby was allright—

It was amazing how drastically his life had changed as a result of one event. One very mysterious plane crash.

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For Thine—is—

"Claire's still missing, isn't she? But that twitchy British fellow, he's back?"

"Yeah, wonder where Claire could be."

He shook, and shook, and shook, and wondered if he would ever stop shaking. Such a simple offer of help from Rose had pulled up all the dulled emotions. But now the live feelings brought back painful memories…

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For Thine is the Kingdom—

He was six years old again, staring wide-eyed as his mother hurried around her room, flinging her belongings into a suitcase. He had just crept upstairs into her room to make sure she was allright, after her fight with his father. Cringing, he remembered what had started out as a petty argument, but soon after both were yelling, screaming at each other in blind fury. He hated these fights, and had spent most of it huddled in his closet with Liam. But now he had finally gathered the courage to abandon his refuge, only to find his mother rushing around her room, looking for all the world as if she was leaving for not so short a time.

Abruptly his mother paused at the doorway and turned to face him. She gave a curt nod, as if merely bestowing a formality, although her stormy blue-grey eyes glistened with unshed tears. He had inherited her eyes, that obscure combination of two cloudy colors. He stared back at her, bewildered yet old enough to know what she was doing.

She briskly turned away and hurried away, to the driveway where an unfamiliar car was waiting. He trailed behind her, and his eyes were riveted to her as she tossed the suitcases into the trunk of the car and swept around to the side to get in. Before she did, their eyes met once more. Her eyes. His eyes. Mirrored.

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The Kingdom—

And then he was fourteen, suffering his first heartbreak; sixteen, watching as girls flocked to the popular boys; eighteen, angry when his girlfriend, whom he adored, left him after she announced he didn't have the "right priorities" in life; twenty and trying to gain fame the hard way. Twenty-two, and his grandmother, who he had always counted on when his parents ignored him, died in her sleep. Twenty-three, with DriveShaft finally making it big time, and the girls finally beginning to notice him. Twenty-seven, growing tired of the emptiness. Nothing kept him. Nothing satisfied him.

And now, twenty-eight, wondering why every women he'd ever loved was gone.

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For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory forever.

He lifted his head slowly and murmured with her the last word, that resonated through the whispering leaves of the forest trees. A word of hope, finality; a plea, an aspiration. _As the Lord wills, let it be._

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Amen.


End file.
